


and this is the room, one afternoon, i knew i could love you

by idiosyncratic28



Category: Bandersnatch - Fandom, Black Mirror, Black Mirror: Bandersnatch
Genre: (v briefly mentioned), Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Multiple Timelines, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 14:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17327156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idiosyncratic28/pseuds/idiosyncratic28
Summary: They had to try something new.





	and this is the room, one afternoon, i knew i could love you

**Author's Note:**

> title from neutral milk hotel's 'king of carrot flowers part 1', i listened to the albums 'in the aeroplane over the sea' and 'ferris wheel on fire' on repeat whilst writing this and i feel so. airy 
> 
> heyyOO me again (wow! 2 fics in 3 days? who am i)  
> i cannot stop thinking abt bandersnatch. catch me self indulging in the form of fanfics
> 
> (on a serious note sorry that there's like. little to no consistency in this i get very lazy when im tired and HOO BOY i am tired)

Stefan was outside the door to Colin’s apartment before the older boy could even have thought of leaving for work. He’d tried every possible alternative to this over the past 76 days - because yes, he kept count - and they’d all ended in bloodshed, or with _Bandersnatch_ getting a terrible rating, or with Stefan in jail.  
Apparently, the omnipotent spirit holding the reins that steered his life had decided that not one of those endings would do. Not one of the seventy-six endings that Stefan had encountered - not him chopping up or burying his dad, not him going berserk on his psychiatrist, not him choosing to work at Tuckersoft and churning _Bandersnatch_ out like a machine would, lacking colour, lacking life - allowed him to move forward towards his end goal.  
He’d been in limbo so long, that he was forgetting just what that goal actually was.

Stefan hadn’t tried inviting himself to Colin’s flat before, he’d only ever _allowed_ himself to be invited; traipsing home behind the older boy as an excuse to bunk off of therapy - to bunk off of seeing his dad. Following Colin home always led him through the same routine;  
He’d meet Colin’s wife, his child. He’d feel jealously bubble up in his belly, raw and dangerous.  
He’d follow Colin to the study, sit opposite his chair in the centre of a curved couch. Ridiculously big for 2 people - maybe guests were invited over more often than Stefan originally thought. A cup of tea, still steaming, would be placed on the small coffee table in front of him.  
Colin would offer him a joint, which he’d take, breathe in, and choke on.  
_“You’ll get the hang of that,”_ \- it was a promise, of sorts - in a foreign way, he knew that he’d be trying it again.  
Then there’d be acid tabs on two of Colin’s fingers, one pointed at himself, one held out to Stefan. If he refused it - it was ‘totally his choice’, after all - it would end up in his tea, anyway.  
He’d listen to Colin ramble on about alternate universes, parallel timelines, Pac-Man and the government for a length of time which he could never specify. All he knew was that it was dark outside by the time the older boy was done with his rant, and at some point, the room had been illuminated by a hazy, deep red mood-lamp. Stefan would watch the posters on Colin’s already-too-cluttered walls come to life, entrancing and amazing in their twisting pulsations. He thought, for a moment, that he might have been dreaming or even dead already - but the vibrancy of Colin, the detail of his face, of the words he was speaking, lulled him back to reality.  
Colin would take Stefan’s face in his hands, hold him close - too close - insisting that he’d been set free, that he had everything he needed to understand now. Stefan would watch Colin’s eyes melt out of their sockets, would reach up to splay his hand over the older boy’s cheek clumsily.  
Would allow himself to be pulled outside onto the balcony, half-conscious and unaware.  
He’d watch, stomach clenching, dumbfounded, as Colin pointed over the side of the balcony.

_“One of us is going over.”_

  
Calm, composed, as if he wasn’t discussing suicide, as if he wasn’t utterly resigned to the thought already. He must have known that Stefan wouldn’t choose himself, that his mind, his body would do anything to protect itself in this compromising situation.  
Stefan wondered if Colin already had an idea of how it would feel to free-fall through the air. Wondered if ‘Nohzdyve’ was based on his own experience, if the sprite coursing through the sky, through the washing-lines, between the brick walls was modelled after its creator. He wondered if Colin was conscious when he hit the storage units below the balcony, flooding them in red.

Stefan didn’t think he could live through that scene for a seventy-seventh time, and so there he stood, still in his pyjamas, outside Colin’s flat. It came to his attention that he’d never actually knocked on the door before, that it’d always just been opened for him. He wondered if Colin was the type of person to look through the keyhole before unlocking the door.  
Stefan inhaled deeply, and raised his fist to the door. Was he supposed to knock? What if the door was already unlocked for him, and he just had to be bold enough to open it?  
He shook his head. The last thing he needed right now was a burglary charge.  
He knocked.

It must have been a couple of minutes - though could have been a lot longer - before Colin opened the door. He looked dishevelled, unprepared.  
“Alright?” Colin eyed Stefan up and down, took in the sight of his bright yellow knee-socks, the oversized jumper, his unbrushed hair, “Wasn’t expecting you for quite a few hours yet.”  
Stefan realised how idiotic this was, realised how stupid he must look right now, and took a step backwards.  
“I’m - I - oh, for fucks sake,” he began, tugging on his earlobe, watching as Colin cocked a brow at him, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing. I - I should leave.”  
And he turned to do exactly that, was only half-surprised when he felt a hand grab ahold of his sleeve and tug him backwards.  
“C’mon, you came all the way here. Must have something important to say.”

Colin’s hand was on the small of his back as he was ushered into the flat, the fleece of the older boy’s dressing gown warm, and inviting. Stefan assumed that just like all the other times, he’d be taken through to the study, seated opposite Colin at the table. Only, this time was different already, and Colin led him through to what Stefan could only assume was _his_ bedroom, and nudged him towards the bed to sit down.  
“What - what about Kitty? And Pearl? Are they out?”  
Colin looked pensive, perhaps even a tad offended.  
“Who?”  
Ah - this was one of _those_ timelines, then. Stefan had only encountered this situation twice before - Colin had no wife, no baby. He had no legacy to carry on his name.  
“No, it - it doesn’t matter. Sorry.” He muttered, not quite sure if he was ready to try and explain himself just yet. Colin just hummed, poured some tea from - did he have a kettle in his room? - and moved over to sit on the bed near Stefan, handing him a mug.  
“So, Bandersnatch boy, why are you in my bed?”  
_‘Bandersnatch boy’_ , at least Colin knew who he was. Stefan thought he might have cried if he opened his mouth to speak, so instead, he chewed on his bottom lip, on the inside of his cheek for a minute or two.  
“You’re always here,” he began, quiet, uncertain, “I’ve - I’ve lived this day so many times now, too - too many times, but you’re always here. It’s the only thing that doesn’t change, it’s always me, and it’s always you.”  
Colin was expressionless again, but broke eye contact with Stefan as he lifted his mug to his lips and sipped. The younger boy was prompted to continue by his silence.  
“I - I don’t know how to describe it. I’ve done everything, tried everything, apart from coming here earlier. I’ve done - everything, I killed my dad, for fucks sake, I don’t know what to do, Colin, I think I’m stuck, I need help.”  
He didn’t know when he’d started crying, could just feel the silky wetness run down his cheeks. Here, sat sobbing on Colin Ritman’s bed, Stefan suddenly felt incredibly small. It helped a little when Colin scooted closer, mug of tea forgotten on the floor. Helped a lot when he draped an arm over Stefan’s shoulders, pulled him close to the his chest in a sort of sideways bear-hug.  
“Okay,” the blond haired boy’s voice was gentle, calming, “What’s your plan?”  
Stefan realised that he didn’t particularly have one. He sniffled, stroking over the wet patch he’d left on Colin’s T-shirt, and took in a shaky breath.  
“I don’t - I don’t think I know,” he said, and thought to himself, _‘at least I’m being honest’_ , “But I think, it has to be something different - something I - we haven’t tried before.”  
Colin was humming again, hand trailing through Stefan’s hair, threading through the knots that’d appeared overnight as he slept.  
“You wanna go outside somewhere?”  
“No, no - it’s not safe outside.”  
“Not necessarily safe inside, either.”  
And Stefan thought he understood, because there were lots of dangers that stemmed from being indoors. He thought perhaps Colin remembered being struck over the head with the trophy that was on Stefan’s desk at home, just beside his computer. He wondered if the older boy had seen his dad’s body and chosen to ignore it until his confession.  
The hand was back on his cheek, knuckles grazing over the skin just below his eyes.  
“You look tired,” Colin mused, repositioning himself and Stefan so that the younger boy’s head rested on his shoulder, arm splayed over Colin’s belly, “You can sleep, if you want.”  
“No,” though Stefan considered it - the room was so, so warm, and he was comfortable, _safe_ \- “No, I - we have to _do_ something.”  
“So tell me what, and we’ll do it.”

Only, Stefan didn’t know how to word what he was thinking - what he was _picturing_ -, not with Colin’s gaze on him so soft, so caring. He didn’t know what he was thinking when he bridged the gap, watched Colin furrow his brows before both of them closed their eyes.  
Stefan couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed anyone, not like this, anyway. Sure, there had been girls - boys - before now, but he’d never pursued relationships or felt the need to do anything so overtly sexual. Not that kissing was sexual, but with people his age, he knew that it had a tendency to lead elsewhere.  
With Colin, it felt different. Sure, there was still pressure, hesitancy, but his presence was reassuring and calming instead of off-putting and serious. Stefan allowed his body to move of its own accord, lips falling open as a tongue ran experimentally over them. Found himself keening, high and needy in his throat, when Colin pulled away.  
“This is your plan? This is what you wanna do, yeah?”  
He was nodding before the words could form in his mouth.  
“And what if it doesn’t work?”  
“I don’t care.”

 

\- - - 

 

Stefan doesn’t remember how they spent the rest of the day. Doesn’t remember eating, but he must have done, because there’s no hollow pain in his belly.  
All he could focus on - all he could possibly care about - was the fact that he was still in Colin’s bedroom. Fractured streams of sunlight filtered through the curtains, which meant it must have been early morning. The days had moved on. 

He moved to sit up, noticed the ache in his thighs, in his - _oh_. Colin was wearing his jumper, must have put it on at some point during the night. The older boy was still asleep, face buried into one of the - too many - pillows on his bed. Stefan put a hand on his shoulder tentatively, and shook him.  
“Colin,” his voice was quiet, hoarse, “Col, wake up.”  
He got some sort of grunt in reply, and Colin shuffled around to face Stefan.  
“Wha’sup?”  
“It’s another day, I - we were right, we did it.”  
“Sure we fuckin’ did. C’mere,” the older boy outstretched an arm to Stefan, inviting, warm.

He doesn’t remember how long he stayed at Colin’s flat after that, isn’t sure if he remembers going home at all.

**Author's Note:**

> hope this is somewhat enjoyable! feedback of any form is always greatly appreciated <3333
> 
> the ending is short and awkward because ,,,, so am i


End file.
